


Construct Healing

by Manuscriptor



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: Jaeger Survives, M/M, Pining, Post Season 2, Season/Series 02, god i love the dynamic they were give at the end, ig, you cannot change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Jaeger's stack is recovered from the wreckage of the Angelfire.  Kovacs doesn't trust him enough to spin him up right away, but he does think his mentor will heal.Jaeger doesn't know what he's supposed to do.
Relationships: Jaeger/Takeshi Kovacs
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Jaeger didn’t recognize the construct he woke up in, but he didn’t sense any immediate danger. He could change it to his liking, easily, but he didn’t. There wasn’t any need to. The room was soft but clinical with basic colors but comfortable furniture. It was strange but not completely unwelcome.

Jaeger pushed himself up from the bed he was in, orienting himself. He did change his clothing. The medical hospital gown didn’t suit him, and he banished it in a second, replacing it with something much more practical. 

“I should’ve known firewalls wouldn’t stop you.” 

The sudden voice made Jaeger jolt upright and jump to his feet. He spun, bringing his fists in front of his face and taking a fighting stance. There was nothing in the construct he could use as a weapon and when he tried to grab at the code and wrench it around him, it refused to cooperate with him. It made him panic, but what was worse was that he recognized the face that met him as he turned. 

“Kovacs?” He should’ve hid his surprise better because the damn soldier laughed almost sadly. Laughed _at_ him.

It could’ve been anyone wearing Kovacs’s face, honestly, but something in Jaeger’s mind told him that this was actually Kovacs and not some imposter. 

Neither of them were wearing armor, and Jaeger couldn’t decide if that made the situation better or worse. Kovacs wore clothes that fit the room, muted and comfortable and nothing like Jaeger had ever seen him wear. Jaeger wore clothes that fit himself. 

“What’s going on?” Jaeger snapped. He didn’t like being laughed at. “Answer me!” 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kovacs asked, instead of answering the damn question. He had a look in his eyes, like he pitied Jaeger. 

Jaeger didn’t want to answer the question until he got his own information, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking back. He frowned, trying to piece together the fragmented events. It was all in bits, and Jaeger didn’t like it when he couldn’t find a coherent timeline. Someone else taking over his body? It was a violation he didn’t like. It was a boundary that he never let anyone else cross. 

“Easy, easy,” Kovacs said. He didn’t move across the room, but he held up a hand as if that would comfort Jaeger.

Jaeger braced a hand against the wall as his head swam. He was disorientated. And that alone was foreign enough.

“What. Happened,” Jaeger repeated. He ground his teeth, wanting Kovacs closer so he could grab him and . . . 

“Something that we never accounted for,” Kovacs said.

He didn’t elaborate. 

“Where am I?” Jaeger asked. 

“A construct.” 

Apparently that was information that Kovacs was willing to give up freely. A construct. Where in the Settled Worlds, Jaeger didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure that it mattered. He pressed a hand against his head to settle his thoughts. He reached out tentatively, trying to find anything in the construct to grab on to, something that he could manipulate. 

There was nothing. 

Even his clothes were off limits to him now. 

“You know we accounted for that,” Kovacs said. “You should know that, Jaeger.” 

To hear his name spoken by a traitor was like a knife twisting in his gut. 

“Why?” Jaeger asked instead. 

“You’re in stasis,” Kovacs said. “Don’t worry. Harlan doesn’t know where you are. Doesn’t even know you’re still alive, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Pretty sure?” Jaeger said. He scoffed, trying to regain his dignity. He hadn’t been at the mercy of someone else’s construct in a long time, and it made him sick to his stomach. “That doesn’t sound like you.” 

Kovacs just smiled and laughed softly. He stepped forward for the first time, turning the chair next to the bed just enough so he could sit down. He folded his hands in his lap, and Jaeger hated how goddamn comfortable he looked. But he couldn’t bring himself to sit down, no, that made him too vulnerable. And maybe that’s why Kovacs had done it. 

“We’ll spin you back up.” 

Jaeger froze, looking up at Kovacs and trying to gauge the emotions crossing his face. He was stone cold though, and Jaeger almost regretted all that training he had drilled into his soldier. His soldier. 

“Not anytime soon,” Kovacs said. He heaved a sigh and that was the only tell that he was more exhausted than he was letting on. His shield was up a moment later, unreadable and distant. “I-- _we_ don’t trust you enough for that just yet. That’s going to take time.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jaeger said. He didn’t care if the truth made him weak. It felt good to admit it, even though it was exactly what Kovacs wanted. Jaeger had no idea what was going on and his lack of memories wasn’t helping.

“I’ll tell you someday,” Kovacs said.

There was that pitying smile again, like Jaeger was a child that didn’t understand what was going on and was too dumb to explain it to. It made Jaeger’s blood boil, but he put a clamp on his emotions, not about to be shown up by his own student. He remembered when he looked at Kovacs the same way, hundreds of years ago. It felt like another lifetime ago, and that’s exactly what it was. 

“For now,” Kovacs said. “You need to focus on healing.” 

Jaeger wrinkled his nose before he could stop himself. Healing? From what? He didn’t have any of his memories, and maybe that’s exactly what Kovacs wanted. Maybe that’s what they all wanted. Jaeger wasn’t sure who “they” was, but he knew there was someone out there, watching this conversation. The construct could be broadcasted on every television on a planet and he would never know. He knew that much about constructs. 

“One memory at a time,” Kovacs said. With a wave of his hand, a bottle of pills materialized on the side of the bed closest to Jaeger. 

Jaeger eyed it distrustfully. Kovacs couldn’t be stupid enough to think he’d coperate just like that. He should know better. Jaeger should know better. He should’ve been smart enough not to land himself in a construct he couldn’t control with an enemy. 

He didn’t want to think of Kovacs like that. It hurt to think of Kovacs like that. 

“Whenever you want,” Kovacs said, nodding at the bottle of pills. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m not going to rush you.” 

Jaeger had no idea what he was talking about, but the bastard disappeared, leaving the construct before Jaeger could ask any questions. And Jaeger was stuck. 

He slammed a fist against a wall, but he couldn’t manipulate it like he normally did and not even a crack appeared. That was frustrating and just reminded him where he was. He scanned the room, looking for anything he could use, sifting through the code, but the firewalls were too good. 

_Probably made by Kovacs._

Jaeger hated to think that. 

He lunged to the pills, as if they would disappear, and snatched them up. It wasn’t full, like he had originally thought. Instead, there was a single white pill inside, rattling against the plastic. Jaeger ripped the cover off and tossed it aside, tipping the pill out and into his hand. 

It was unmarked, with no lettering or stamp to tell him what it actually was. 

Jaeger still didn’t trust it but he didn’t have much other choice. 

He tossed it into his mouth, taking a moment to figure out how to swallow before getting it down. 

The vision hit him like a bullet to the brain because that’s exactly what it was. There had been a fight, one between him and Kovacs, and it had ended with a bullet to his brain. They had fought after everything, but it wasn’t Jaeger in his body. No. There was something else there, at the front, preventing him from remembering. Jaeger shuddered without meaning too, falling forward onto the bed as he re-lived a life that he didn’t remember.

And this . . . _thing . . . this thing_ hated Kovacs. Wanted him dead. No wonder Jaeger didn’t remember. These feelings were so far from his own. If this thing let him copilot, let him remember, he would’ve stopped it in a moment. But this thing . . . . didn’t let him. Like it knew. Like it knew about him and Kovacs.

A soldier. 

No. 

A mentorship. 

Not enough. 

_A son._

Maybe even more than that.

Jaeger could never do that to his son. Could never do that to someone that meant that much to him. Kovacs had to know that. Out of everything, Kovacs had to _know_ that. Didn’t he? 

Didn’t he? 

When Jaeger pulled himself out of the memory, he had collapsed face first on the bed, boneless. He had tears streaming down his face. He wiped at them quickly, overly conscious of the fact that someone was probably watching him. This goddamn construct. Jaeger clawed at it, trying to do something. Anything. 

  
His fingers slipped across the code. 

He was still crying. 

Kovacs was probably watching. And Jaeger could do nothing to stop him.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaeger stared at the same golden sunset light that spilled through the windows of his fake medical room. He had tried breaking the glass. The construct had been too strong for that. All the cupboards had been empty and even when he concentrated as hard as he could, he couldn’t produce a single drop of water from the stainless steel sink.

Whoever was running the construct he was in was far stronger than he was. 

Jaeger entertained himself most days by meditating on the bed. He didn’t have a choice. He sat with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, hoping that Kovacs would come back. _Anyone_ would come back. Time could be warped inside any construct and Jaeger knew it could, but it felt like he had been there for days, weeks. 

The sunlight always stayed the same sunset yellow. Jaeger tried to keep track of how many times he slept, but even that got hard. He had nothing to mark the wall or write with, and eventually he lost track. 

He thought about the vision he had had when he first took the pill. It felt like it had happened ages ago. He thought a lot about what he had seen. It hadn’t felt like him, but it had been him. He had done something. Made someone angry. That’s how he ended up here. 

Jaeger didn’t know why they kept him spun up. He just wanted to spin down, enter that same reassuring darkness. He didn’t want to have to think anymore. 

He had tried yelling. 

He had tried screaming and tearing the room apart. 

Everything was bolted down. Jaeger hadn’t been strong enough to tear the cupboard doors off. The most he had done was pull the pillows and blankets off the bed, and that hadn’t been satisfying at all. He had ended up in the corner, bundled up. If he sat on the bed, it felt like he had been defeated somehow, and Jaeger wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Not yet.

Jaeger couldn’t starve himself. 

That would’ve been his next course of action. But he didn’t even get hungry in the construct and there was never any food anyway. On the outside, Kovacs was probably taking care of his sleeve, but in here, Jaeger was all on his own. 

So Jaeger had to cooperate. He had to cooperate long enough to find a weakness in the construct. As soon as he found a weakness, he could break out, and as soon as he could break out, he could get back to his sleeve, and as soon as he got back to his sleeve, he could _fight_.

Jaeger would fight. He would fight and kill everyone who kept him like this. He would crush every stack and make sure their sleeves burned. He would spare Kovacs, unless things got complicated. 

Kovacs would be the only one allowed to live, and Jaeger would kill the rest of them. 

Yes, when he finally managed to get his hands on whoever else was out there, looking in at him, laughing at him, mocking him . . . 

The construct shifted ever so slightly, and Kovacs was suddenly there. He stood off to the side, near the counter and cupboards and kept his distance. 

Like he was scared Jaeger would attack. 

“How are you doing?” he had the nerve to ask. _He had the nerve to ask._ How had Jaeger been doing? How had he been doing?!

His jaw tightened before he could stop himself, and he scowled. He didn’t move from his bed, but Kovacs sighed and conjured a chair for himself to sit down in. Jaeger glared at that, flexing his own hands unconsciously. The action normally would’ve brought a weapon into existence. As Jaeger currently was, it didn’t do anything. 

“What do you want?” he asked, ignoring Kovacs’s question.

Kovacs sighed, like he was dealing with a whiny child. He didn’t say anything, and Jaeger was forced to bring down his walls just a bit. If he wanted any information, they would have to talk. He would have to talk to Kovacs if he had any chance of getting out of here.

“I . . . I don’t remember doing what I did in the memory,” Jaeger said quietly. He had acknowledged it in his mind, but actually saying it out loud was something else. It was like admitting it all over again. 

But Kovacs looked hopeful. He sat up a little taller and tilted his chin, as if studying Jaeger for the first time. And Jaeger hated being under the scrutiny. 

“That’s good,” Kovacs said finally. “No, Jaeger, you don’t understand, that’s _good_.” 

Jaeger folded his legs, resisting the urge to pull the pillows and blankets to his chest. It would be a childish response, and while Jaeger felt more and more helpless the longer he was in the construct, he wasn’t ready to show that side of himself just yet. Instead, he grabbed his knees, squeezing until his knuckles were white, and then letting the tension ease out of his body.

“I don’t understand,” Jaeger said. “I don’t remember it, but it still happened.” Why else would he be here? “Did someone take my sleeve? Was it something I did before my memories did a full back up?” A realization struck him and he bolted upright, glaring at Kovacs. “You don’t have me double sleeved, do you?!” 

Kovacs was already shaking his head. “No, of course not. I have . . . a lot more consideration than others.” 

Jaeger frowned. “Double sleeving you wasn’t my decision,” he said. 

“But you liked it,” Kovacs said. “You didn’t say no.” 

They were accusations, not questions. Jaeger shook his head. 

“It wasn’t my decision,” he repeated. 

Kovacs just sighed in defeat. “That isn’t why we’re here,” he said. 

Jaeger leaned forward. “Then why are we here?” he asked. “Why?! Just tell me. I watched that fucking memory so many times. Just tell me why I’m here!” 

He didn’t mean to shout, but Kovacs was already jumping to his feet, digging into the code of the construct. Jaeger jumped forward. This had to be the opening he was waiting for. If he could get his hands on the code that Kovacs opened up, then he could get control of the construct and get himself out of here. 

Kovacs wasn’t ready for him. 

For the first time in a long time, Kovacs wasn’t ready when Jaeger dove forward. 

He pulled some sort of baton from nowhere, and Jaeger wasn’t fast enough before it was striking him across the face. The construct was fake, but the pain was very real. He sprawled to one side, vision going dark for a moment. When he shook his head and cleared his mind, Kovacs was on the opposite side of the room, baton raised, looking at him like he was a feral dog that was going to attack.

Jaeger spat, but there was no blood. There wouldn’t be blood unless Kovacs wanted there to be. 

He was the one in control, and that made Jaeger’s stomach twist with anger. 

“Shut up!” he growled. The only thing he could throw were the pillows and blankets. He ripped these off the bed and flung them at Kovacs before retreating to the farthest part of the room. 

Kovacs batted them easily out of the way and kept the baton trained on Jaeger. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. 

“Bullshit!” Jaeger snapped. “If you didn’t want to hurt me you wouldn’t keep me in this fucking construct! You wouldn’t give me a memory that isn’t mine to watch over and over until I go fucking mad!” He gripped the counter and wrenched, but it didn’t budge. “ _Fuck_!” 

“Easy,” Kovacs said. 

“No!” Jaeger said, spinning to face him. “Shut the fuck up! Don’t tell me what to do! I want to know what’s going on!” His eyes were burning. Jaeger hadn’t cried in decades, he had forgotten what it felt like. “Who was that in that memory? What _happened_?!” 

“There was something else,” Kovacs said. The baton dropped a fraction of an inch, and then it disappeared completely as Kovacs slumped. “There was something else living on the planet when the Founders arrived, and it didn’t like that its home was taken away.” 

Jaeger shook his head, his hand drifting to his stack before he could stop himself. 

Kovacs was already nodding. “It could hide in stacks,” he said. “We didn’t even know it was there until it took over. It lived in Quell for a while. Made her kill Founders. We didn’t know it was in you before it was too late.” 

Jaeger stared down at his hands. He never let someone else control him. It was a creed. A mantra. A promise between himself and his sleeve. He grabbed his head, wondering, briefly, if he could tear his stack out with his own fingers. 

“We stopped it,” Kovacs said quickly. “Quell and I and . . . . others. We made sure it couldn’t hurt anyone else.” 

“I attacked you,” Jaeger said. He was all too aware of the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“ _It_ attacked me,” Kovacs said. “And we did what we had to do to stop it. The others . . . they don’t trust you. But I do. I know that wasn’t you, Jaeger. You just have to prove it. To them. Show them that you wouldn’t do that.” 

There were too many words for Jaeger at the moment. He just stared at the ground, crying, frozen to where he stood. Kovacs was talking but nothing was making sense. 

“I attacked you,” Jaeger said. “I . . . I would never do that. Not to . . . not to _kill you._ I attacked you and I was going to kill you.” 

“You weren’t,” Kovacs said, stepping towards him. “I know that wasn’t you.” 

“God, I remember,” Jaeger said. He brushed at his tears, but there wasn’t any point in trying to stop them. Not now. He looked up at Kovacs. “I do remember. I was going to kill you. I would never kill you, I swear to God. Kovacs . . . _Takeshi_ , I would never kill you.” His name didn’t feel like it belonged in Jaeger’s mouth.

Kovacs was tearing up too. He had more control over his emotions though and hadn’t let any fall yet. He opened his arms to Jaeger, as if inviting him into an embrace. 

Jaeger didn’t dare move. 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Kovacs said. “Jaeger, I _know_ that. Quell . . . and the others—they are the ones that don’t trust you. We just need to show them. We need to show them that it wasn’t you. Because that wasn’t you. You would never hurt—” 

“I would!” Jaeger snapped. He couldn’t stand to hear Kovacs say one more word. “You don’t understand! I would hurt you. I _would_ hurt you. I did hurt you! I just . . . I would never kill you.” 

Kovacs was quiet then, as if he finally realized what was wrong.

“I would never kill you though,” Jaeger repeated, quieter. “I . . . I love you.” 

Hearing himself say it out loud just made him realize how pathetic he sounded. He wasn’t supposed to love. That emotion was supposed to have been beaten out of him ages ago. Jaeger was supposed to have a singular purpose and that didn’t include loving anyone, not even himself. How did Kovacs not realize this? How had he never realized this?! 

“Jaeger,” Kovacs said. 

“No! Listen to me!” Jaeger said. He was finally able to look up and meet Kovacs’s gaze. Glaring. “They’re right about me! You shouldn’t keep me in a construct, you should destroy my stack. The Founders bought my backups, and it’s only a matter of time before I come after you again.” 

“That isn’t you,” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger slammed a fist against the counter. “It is!” he said. “You don’t understand that, and that’s why I was able to get close to you in the first place. It’s your biggest weakness, Tak . . . Kovacs.” He laughed, but there wasn’t anything funny about the situation. “Fitting, isn’t it?” 

“That you’re my biggest weakness?” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger froze. He never thought about it that way. He didn’t want to think about it like that. It gave him false hope that was also supposed to have been beaten out of him. He didn’t want to think about himself and Takeshi. What could have been. What wasn’t allowed to happen. It all meant nothing and it meant nothing. It was supposed to mean nothing. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jaeger said. “None of it matters, okay? Are you not listening to me? I would hurt you, and that’s the problem. Quell—” Her name felt dead on his tongue, bitter. The woman who had taken Kovacs from him. “They are right about me.” 

“They _aren’t_ ,” Kovacs said. Stubborn as always. “I know you.” 

“And I know myself,” Jaeger said. “Listen to me, Kovacs.” He slumped against the counter, suddenly tired. “Do everyone a favor.” 

“I’m not going to RD you,” Kovacs said firmly. “I’m _not_.” 

“It would be best for everyone,” Jaeger said. “I’m tired, Kovacs. I’m exhausted. You can’t keep me in a construct forever. We both know that. One of these days you’re going to mess up, and you know how dangerous a construct can be when it’s under my control.” 

He reached out for code, and during the conversation, Kovacs had forgotten about keeping him at a distance. Jaeger latched onto it. He had one chance. He could choose whatever weapon he wanted and could fight his way out of here. A single moment where he could catch Kovacs off guard, and he wouldn’t have a chance like this, probably ever again. 

Jaeger manifested a sandwich. Something simple. Authentic chicken with crisp lettuce and juicy tomatoes. It took barely any effort, but the moment it was in his hands, the code was pulled out of his grip, and Kovacs took a step back. 

Jaeger slumped against the counter, staring down at his small victory. 

His mouth was watering already. 

Kovacs wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The code was now so far out of reach, Jaeger wouldn’t have access to it ever again. 

He took a huge bite of the sandwich, almost groaning at the flavor. It was the first thing he had tasted in a while. In days. Weeks. He had no idea. Even in the construct, it was the best thing he had had in a while. He had only been able to use the memories of flavors from meals he had eaten decades ago, and still, it was the best thing Jaeger had ever eaten in his entire life. It was the first thing besides Kovacs to break up the monotony of the construct, and Jaeger clung to both.

Kovacs was still on guard and only watched as Jaeger finished the sandwich in several huge bites. 

“I told you,” Jaeger said once he had finished licking the crumbs off his fingers. “I’m dangerous. Kill me, before I hurt anyone else.” 

“You’re not, I won’t,” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger just shook his head. When he pushed off the counter and stepped forward, Kovacs scrambled back, and the baton was in his hands a moment later. Jaeger just laughed again and collapsed on the bed. He rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands. 

“I told you,” he said, even though he knew Kovacs had already hidden the baton, trying to act like it hadn’t happened. “Even you don’t trust me.” 

“With time,” Kovacs said. “Everything takes time.” 

Jaeger shook his head. “Time that neither of us has,” he said. “Admit it, Kovacs. It’s hopeless. You won’t convince them, and I haven’t even convinced you.” 

“You’ve convinced more people than you know,” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger looked at him between his minutes, trying to read his emotions. But Kovacs was even better at putting up walls than he was. His face was as unreadable as it always was, and Jaeger had to accept that that was how it was always going to be. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. There wasn’t anything else to say and Jaeger was getting tired of walls. 

“What I mean,” Kovacs said. “Is that I love you too.” 

Jaeger sat straight up and twisted around, but Kovacs was already gone, and the construct was what he had gotten all too familiar with. The warm orange light spilled through the windows and the blankets were back on the bed, somehow underneath Jaeger and perfectly made. The chair Kovacs had first sat in was gone and everything was back to normal. 

Jaeger yelled and jumped to his feet, slamming his fist against the nearest window. 

The glass didn’t even crack, and he was only rewarded with a sharp pain that jumped from his hand to his shoulder and made him hiss and jerk back. 

“Kill me!” he yelled at the ceiling. 

Of course there was no response. 

“Kill me, you fucking coward!” 

And of course, no one listened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that people want to actually read more of this! I'm going to leave the chapters open cuz I really do want to write a little more of this, I love this character dynamic


	3. Chapter 3

Jaeger stopped sleeping in the bed. He couldn’t stand it.

Nothing about the construct changed. It didn’t matter how many times he slept. The sunlight through the window was the same. The cupboards were always empty. Jaeger didn’t even have the memory to watch anymore. 

He dragged all of the pillows and blankets off the side and bundled himself in a corner. 

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. He was trained to be able to sit in fox holes and hideouts for weeks at a time with little food, just to get a chance to hunt his enemies. He was able to do this, but the construct was different. He had already been here for days, weeks, maybe months. He was already breaking down, and sitting in a corner was just a sad attempt at coping. 

Jaeger wanted Kovacs to come back.

He didn't even care that he admitted it now. Anything to break up the monotony and boredom. Anything to make Jaeger stop _thinking_.

Something to make anything stop. 

Just . . . . something. 

The construct shifted slightly, but Jaeger didn’t look up. He had imagined things too many times now. How often had he seen Kovacs in the corner? How often had he imagined Kovacs coming to him with soft touches and even softer words? Even his mind didn’t care about his feelings. It tormented him even more than the construct did.

Footsteps crossed the room, and Jaeger cursed his delusions. They made him want something he couldn’t have. If he wasn’t so desperate or worn down, he could’ve stopped these hallucinations. Now, he was too tired to resist. 

What would his mind make him endure this time? Kovacs admitting his feelings all over again? Make Jaeger so desperate that he would admit his feelings too? Jaeger would sooner cry.

He wanted to shove the hallucination away, but he had done that too many times too. Fists and hands thrashing and touching nothing, and whatever he was imagining stayed exactly where it was. Most fighting was useless now.

A soft hand settled on his shoulder—the first time Jaeger had been touched in weeks—and with a jolt, he realized that this wasn’t just a hallucination. 

Jaeger sat straight up, trying to scramble back into his corner when he realized that Kovacs was crouching right in front of him. Not a hallucination, real life. And suddenly Jaeger wasn’t so eager for change. 

“Ease, easy,” Kovacs said, keeping his distance and letting him pull the blankets up around himself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You didn’t scare me,” Jaeger spat. “I just . . . wasn’t expecting you.” 

Kovacs sat back on his heels with a grim smile and then after a moment, he pushed himself to his feet. Jaeger flinched before he could stop himself, but Kovacs didn’t acknowledge it as he crossed the room. Jaeger didn’t get up. He stayed in his corner with the blankets pulled around him.

Kovacs played with the code, and Jaeger watched him, angry and bitter that he couldn’t do the same. 

“How are you doing?” Kovacs asked. 

Jaeger glared at him. “I don’t want to answer that.” 

Kovacs sighed. “I’m doing the best I can.” 

“Fuck your best,” Jaeger said. He wanted to be out of the construct, back in a sleeve. He wanted to feel the real world around him on his own terms, not through a dozen layers of firewalls that stopped him.

“It doesn’t help when you act like that,” Kovacs said with a stern look. 

Jaeger felt like a chastised school child. And he hated that that was probably how Kovacs saw him right now. 

“I want out of this,” Jaeger said instead. “I want out of . . .” He gestured at the construct around him. 

“I already told you,” Kovacs said. “They don’t trust you.” 

“ _They_?” Jaeger said. “Who’s they? Just tell the truth, Kovacs, you wanted this. You’ve always wanted this.” 

“Wanted what?!” Kovacs said, finally letting his careful facade fall a bit as he raised his voice, and Jaeger knew he had hit a nerve. “What about this would I have wanted?!” 

“Me,” Jaeger said. He was pushing his luck, pushing Kovacs buttons. Maybe it was the boredom, but Jaeger wanted that reaction. He wanted to see Kovacs _angry_. “Me here. In a construct. _Helpless_.” 

“You aren’t helpless,” Kovacs said with a roll of his eyes. And the facade was back.

Jaeger tried to grab at the code, smirking when Kovacs jerked away in fear. In a moment, a baton was in his hand, leveled at Jaeger’s head. Jaeger just leaned back against his corner with a sneer. It was exactly how he expected Kovacs to respond. 

  
“Helpless,” he repeated just to drive his point home. 

“You’ve never been helpless in your life, not once,” Kovacs said, banishing the baton. He could act like he hadn’t summoned it all he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that he did. 

Jaeger shrugged. “Well, look at me now.” 

“If you keep acting like this, you’re only doing it to yourself.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing this to me.” 

“If you would just _work_ with us!” 

Jaeger pushed himself to his feet.

He felt weak, which had to be completely psychosomatic since he didn’t need food or sleep or anything in a construct. He pulled the blanket tight around his shoulders, keeping himself bundled up as he glared defiantly back at Kovacs. He was all too aware that the construct could be turned against him at any moment. 

Kovacs looked wary of him, not like he thought Jaeger would attack. It was more like he didn’t know what Jaeger was going to do.

“Work with you?” Jaeger muttered, glaring at him as he shuffled forward. He took his time, moving slowly. He knew what kind of pain Kovacs could inflict on him if he wanted. Anything that Jaeger did could be turned against him. 

Kovacs slumped, just slightly. He rubbed at his face and then leaned harder against the wall he was against. “Cooperate,” he said and shook his head. “ _Understand_. Try to at least understand where we are coming from. Is that so hard?” 

Jaeger hesitated. But he was already so exhausted and so worn out and his thoughts were the only company he had had in so long. How was he supposed to do this? What did he have to lose? He was barely himself anymore, and Kovacs was one of the few people keeping Jaeger grounded. 

He reached out and touched Kovacs’s arm. Touch, not grab. His fingers ghosted over the fabric of his shirt, and even that made Jaeger’s mind reel. 

A different texture. After so long with the same clothes, the same blankets, the same everything—and Kovacs’s clothes were a different texture. 

Jaeger felt his throat close up with emotion, and that’s how he knew he was hopeless. 

He grabbed Kovacs then, wrapped his hand around his arm and felt the fabric bunch and felt _Kovacs_. And Jaeger never thought he would miss the touch of another sleeve but here he was, clutching to Kovacs like he was a wobbling fawn about to lose its footing. 

Kovacs tensed against the touch too, and so did Jaeger, expecting the construct to be turned against him in a heartbeat. He knew pain. He had been in too many fights and battles, lost too many sleeves, endured torture session after torture session, the list was endless. And he also knew that Kovacs had the training to use that same pain against him.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and they stood there for a moment, both of them unmoving.

Jaeger made the first move. Probably because he couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing. He had been doing nothing for so long, and now, he just wanted action. He wanted to have a choice in what happened to him and what he did. And he was just as surprised that Kovacs didn’t shove him away. 

Jaeger leaned forward and kissed him. Tentatively. It was soft and cautious. 

Jaeger was scared, terrified. He knew how not to shake or show it, but Kovacs could reject him. Easily. Shove him away, laugh at him, tell him how disgusting Jaeger was and how much he made Kovacs want to throw up. They had spent a lot of time together, on missions and afterwards. They would drink and celebrate after a win, and Jaeger had watched hundreds of times as Kovacs would flirt and impress a woman, making her giggle and blush before taking her up or back to whatever room. Jaeger would just watch, jealous that he couldn’t be what those women were. Kovacs would never look at him the same way. 

But Kovacs didn’t shove him away.

He didn’t kiss back. 

Jaeger was the one who pulled away.

He stepped back, quickly retreating to the opposite side of the room. He grabbed his blanket off the floor, slinging it around his shoulders before sinking into his corner. He pulled the blanket up over his head so that he didn’t have to look at the way that Kovacs was now staring at him. 

He would probably leave in a moment. He always left abruptly. He always left Jaeger alone, with nothing to hold onto and with nothing to do. He always left Jaeger like he was nothing, so when a hand settled on Jaeger’s shoulder, he winced and braced himself to be struck. 

He expected a fist or an open palm, maybe the baton again. He expected the construct to be turned against him. He expected pain and fear and blood. His blood. Kovacs would never forgive him for this.

The hand traced along his shoulder and then lifted.

Jaeger braced himself for the first impact.

“You always confused me, Jaeger,” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger winced at his name. He imagined Kovacs’ face while he said it—mouth twisted in disgust, sneering, eyes burning with hatred. He imagined Kovacs controlling the construct, changing it from the soft medical room to a torture chamber, ready to take out his anger on Jaeger. 

Jaeger didn’t dare pull the blanket off his head. He didn’t want to see anything. 

“Always confused me,” Kovacs repeated. “I never figured you out. Even after all this time.” 

Jaeger didn’t move. If anything, he curled himself tighter, pulling the blanket down more and ducking his head almost between his knees. He wanted Kovacs to leave, like he always did. He wanted things to be normal and that meant that Kovacs left him—left him behind, left him alone, left him broken. Jaeger wasn’t supposed to hang onto anything, so why did he cling to this? 

He didn’t know. He felt like he was a stranger, even to himself.

“Go,” he said. He didn’t even have it in him to try to steady his voice, and it cracked with emotion that he didn’t want to have. “Leave me alone.” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Kovacs said. 

He shifted, and Jaeger was aware enough to know that he had crouched down, probably next to him. They had to be side by side, Jaeger curled up like a scared child and Kovacs crouching over him like a schoolyard bully. 

“I want you to go,” Jaeger growled. 

He considered lashing out, tackling Kovacs. He could take him. How many times had they trained together—hand to hand combat, weapons, wrestling? Jaeger knew Kovacs’ body like he knew his own. Sleeves changed, they could be spun up and spun down, but it took more to change a stack. Jaeger could have him on his back, hands wrapped around his throat and squeezing until . . . . 

They had kissed. 

Jaeger could think of hundreds of thousands of missions they had been on. They spent endless nights cramped in fox holes, eating meals out of their foil packaging, and mumbling about how much they missed hot showers and clean clothes. They spent too many evenings, dressed up and paraded in front of people who had more money and influence than they could ever dream of, eating sandwiches made with authentic meat and vegetables and drinking scotch that was hundreds to thousands of years old. And how many mornings had they woken up in the same bed, clothes on the other side of the room with whispered words that would only be remembered in private journals because they would be spun down before they were backed up. 

Jaeger had so many memories. So, so many memories that he didn’t want. 

And he didn’t know if Kovacs had those same memories. Different sleeves, same stacks, but who knew what memories they had been allowed to keep after all this time. 

“Leave me alone,” he repeated. “I want you to leave.” 

The bed creaked as Kovacs sat down. Funny that the construct made noise. It didn’t have to. Jaeger knew that. It could simulate life perfectly, down to sounds and smells and sensations but why bother? Unless you were trying to torture whoever was inside, make them believe something that wasn’t real. A construct was supposed to be temporary. 

It was quiet then. Jaeger almost pulled the blanket off of his head, but he somehow knew that Kovacs was still there. There wasn’t the shift or the change or whatever that Jaeger had become familiar with, and he could somehow tell that Kovacs was still there, maybe looking at him. With pity? That was something Jaeger couldn’t tell. 

Jaeger didn’t move for several long minutes. He didn’t say anything either.

Kovacs cleared his throat. “I could . . . . I could get you out,” he said quietly. 

Jaeger moved then. He should know better than to show how much the chance to leave meant to him, but he couldn’t help it. He pulled the blanket down and straightened, looking to where Kovacs was hunched over on the bed. He wasn’t looking at Jaeger. He had his head in his hands, looking as exhausted as Jaeger felt. 

“What do you mean?” Jaeger whispered. He hated that it gave him hope.

Kovacs finally looked up. “It would just be for a couple minutes,” he said. “No one would be allowed to know.” 

Jaeger didn’t dare say anything. He was scared that if he opened his mouth, he would ruin this opportunity. 

Kovacs actually smiled. For the first time they had been together in the construct, he smiled as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“I’ll pull you out,” he said before disappearing. 

Jaeger held his breath. How would he know if Kovacs was telling the truth until he actually left the construct? He didn’t want to hope, he didn’t want to give himself that chance to be disappointed, but he couldn’t help but tense, waiting for the dragging sensation and the jarring sense of waking up in a sleeve after the construct melted around him. 

He waited, holding his breath, frozen in place, and then he felt it. 

Jaeger hadn’t been sleeve-sick in a while. He was trained to be able to jump sleeves in a heartbeat and immediately enter combat, but he must’ve been out of practice because as soon as he woke up in his sleeve, he was twisting over the table and dry heaving. There wasn’t anything in his stomach though, and all he succeeded in doing was burning his throat with stomach acid and sending tears and snot streaming down his face. 

He was barely recovering when a hand passed him a towel. Jaeger took it without question, wiping himself down and then taking a moment to just breathe, making sure his sleeve was stable before even attempting to sit up.

The room spun a bit, and Jaeger pressed the heel of his hand to his temple as if that would help. He squinted, waited a moment, and then blinked to clear his vision.

He noticed Kovacs first. 

He sat across the room. It was a medical room. Nothing like the construct. There wasn’t sunlight streaming through the windows and the doors of half the cupboards were hanging off their hinges. The place had obviously been abandoned at some point, until they had gotten there. Jaeger was laying on a thin hospital cot, nothing like the comfortable bed with luxurious blankets and pillows from the construct. The only thing new about the room was the stasis equipment for keeping Jaeger’s sleeve alive while his stack lived in a construct.

And Kovacs was sitting there, in a folding chair, calm and collecting and pulled together like he always was. 

“Careful,” was all he said when Jaeger sat up. 

Jaeger didn’t need to be careful. 

He pushed himself up so he sat on the edge of the bed. He spat, just to clear his mouth, and then wiped his nose on the back of his hand. 

He wasn’t wearing hospital scrubs. His normal tactical gear had been replaced at some point, but instead of the soft useless fabric it was a sturdy long-sleeved shirt and pants that were made for hiking and rough travel. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but that hadn’t stopped Jaeger before. 

“You should take things slow,” Kovacs said, sitting back in his chair as he watched Jaeger orient himself. “You haven’t been in a sleeve for a while.” 

“How long?” Jaeger croaked. HIs voice was even rougher here than it was in the construct. He wanted to hear Kovacs say it—weeks or months. He wanted to force him to acknowledge the length of time that he had kept Jaeger down and in a construct. 

Kovacs didn’t say anything for a moment. “Three months—” 

Jaeger pushed himself to his feet, and Kovacs finally moved, pushing himself halfway up as if to help Jaeger stay on his feet if he needed it. He didn’t get that close, and that wasn’t what Jaeger wanted. He staggered on purpose, pretending that his legs gave out. 

Of course Kovacs jumped forward to grab him. 

Jaeger caught his wrist and spun him, using his surprise and momentum against him. It was easy, almost laughable, how Jaeger was able to throw Kovacs aside. No, not throw him. Jaeger didn’t want distance between them. If he could keep his hands on Kovacs, he could keep him under control. Instead, he used the movement to cross the small distance between themselves and the wall and slam Kovacs there, pinning him. 

It was exhausting. 

Jaeger had been living off of IVs and nothing for three months and the sleeve sickness was catching up with him. He still had surprise and shock on his side, but Kovacs had enough training that even that wouldn’t stop him for long. 

“What are you doing?!” Kovacs hissed, fighting against his grip. 

Jaeger didn’t respond. He didn’t have the strength. Instead, he focused on slamming Kovacs’ head against the wall as hard as he could before shoving him towards the ground and running for the door. 

The hospital was old, so Jaeger was already expecting the hallway to be falling apart. He saw an open window and ran. He didn’t care what level they were on, as long as he was inside, he was at a disadvantage. Getting outside was his best chance at survival, and as weak as he was, Jaeger was going to take those odds. 

The glass had been broken out of the frame a long time ago, which left Jaeger with an easy getaway. He braced his hands on the frame, taking a second to take in his surroundings and was going to jump into whatever wilderness they were in the middle of. Jaeger had been trained to survive every type of biome and planet, and even with sleeve sickness and immobility for three months didn’t stop muscle memory. If Jaeger could run, he could survive. 

But there wasn’t a wilderness outside of the window. 

The hospital was run down, sure, so Jaeger assumed that the surrounding area would be the same. He expected forests or jungle, maybe even a dessert or plain. Instead of that, the area was bustling with activity. 

There was a small town full of activity around the hospital, the buildings stretching out into the surrounding trees until he lost track of the edge of the settled area. Dozens of people were working and bustling around. Jaeger even spotted a couple of younger kids playing in an open square. He couldn’t even begin to guess what planet he was on before hands grabbed him and yanked him away from the view. 

Kovacs slammed him back against the wall this time, harder than Jaeger had been able to before. The wind was knocked from his lungs for a moment, and he gasped before recovering. He thrashed against Kovacs’ grip, fighting as much as he could, but his sleeve was weaker than he anticipated. 

“Stop it! Jaeger, stop fight!” Kovacs barked. It was an order, but Jaeger had never taken orders from Kovacs and he wasn’t about to start now. 

“Fuck you!” Jaeger said. He spat in his face. Kovacs wasn’t even bleeding, though there was a bruise starting to darken on his temple. “You’re not going to put me back in there!” 

They wrestled for a moment, and Jaeger managed to hook a foot around Kovacs’ ankle and bring him down. They rolled over each other on the floor, and Jaeger could feel stone and nails digging into his back as Kovacs pinned him again. 

Jaeger expected hands around his throat or maybe a blow to the head, something to incapacitate him. That’s what he would’ve done. It was what they had been trained to do. 

But Kovacs pinned his hands with his legs, pressing a forearm against Jaeger’s throat. They were both out of breath now. Jaeger was sweating, body exhausted from the sudden activity after so long. Kovacs seemed more annoyed than anything, but more frazzled than Jaeger had ever seen him. His hair was in his face, instead of carefully pulled back, and his normally calculated expression was a bit panicked and confused. 

If Jaeger could twist himself enough, he could get a knee up and plant a foot in Kovacs’ stomach. With that leverage, he might be able to get free. He would have to fight his way through the town, but maybe he would have the chance to get supplies. He would need solid food eventually, not to mention water and first aid kit. He didn’t know what other damage his sleeve had taken. He just had to get Kovacs off of him and then maybe he could get away. He might have a chance to—

And then Kovacs was kissing him. Nothing like the construct. That had been tentative and nervous. Kovacs’ eyes were closed now, and he leaned into the kiss, pressing his body to Jaeger’s. He didn’t loosen his grip, so Jaeger couldn’t use it as a chance to break free. But now, he didn’t want to. 

Was this what he wanted? Was this what he had always wanted? Maybe not like this, but Kovacs was on top of him, kissing him. Jaeger couldn’t help but close his eyes too. 

He leaned up into Kovacs’ touch. He couldn’t help it. After all of the dulled down sensations and repeated textures of the construct, feeling Kovacs on top of him, heavy and solid and _there_ , grounded him like he hadn’t been in months. It was real. It was constant. It was reality. 

Kovacs was the one who pulled away this time, slowly and gently. They opened their eyes at the same time, and Jaeger was still out of breath, not from running this time though. 

“You’re not going back in there,” Kovacs whispered. “I won’t let them.” 

“How can I trust you?” Jaeger said. He wasn’t struggling, but he was aware that he was still trapped. 

Kovacs didn’t smile, but his eyes had that mischievous twinkle that Jaeger could spot after knowing him for hundreds of years. It was the eager look he got before they stormed a building or were about to make a kill. When they were on the same side, Jaeger loved seeing it. Knowing that Kovacs wasn’t about to let him escape, the look probably meant something else. 

“You used to trust me,” Kovacs said. “What changed?” 

“You did,” Jaeger said. “You changed.” Kovacs was the one who changed sides and started fighting back. If he had just followed orders, he and Jaeger could have lived a perfect life, maybe even retiring into old sleeves and spending the rest of their lives together.

Kovacs kissed him, briefly, quickly. Before Jaeger could even react, he was pulling away again but still not letting him up. “I think we both changed,” he said. 

Jaeger shook his head. “I never changed,” he said. He didn’t want to be embarrassed, but he was. “I’ve always . . . this is . . . . my stack is the same as it’s always been.” 

“Is it?” Kovacs asked. 

And that was the one question that even Jaeger didn’t have an answer to, not yet. The thought of change was terrifying. Not change like a sleeve not being the same or moving to a different planet. He wasn’t that fragile. Change like friends drifting apart as their stacks went from sleeve to sleeve, the idea that feelings—no matter how strong—that could fade and be replaced with other feelings when other feelings just grew stronger and stronger. That was the type of change that Jaeger didn’t like. Relationships over time. Change that was out of his control. 

Stacks were supposed to stop time. You didn’t have to physically age, and any physical illness could be completely circumvented. 

But stacks didn’t help with feelings. That was a different type of healing. 

And Jaeger wasn’t sure if Kovacs knew that or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaeger agreed not to fight or run as long as he didn’t have to return to the hospital room. Construct or otherwise, he didn’t like the impersonal nature of medical rooms. Never had, never would. Kovacs looked nervous even after everything, but he obliged Jaeger. 

They gathered up the little supplies that had been stocked in the room and Kovacs led the way out of the hospital. 

It wasn’t as rundown as Jaeger had first realized. The third floor—the one that he had been staying on—was the only floor above the tree line and thus exposed to all the elements. The second and first floors were much cleaner and not falling apart as much. 

When Jaeger stepped out of the front doors, he had to squint against the sunlight. A moment later, a headache formed right behind his eyes. He wasn’t even used to being outside, and he instinctively grabbed for Kovacs, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust. If this had been a fight, he would’ve been killed in a moment. 

“Still sleeve-sick?” Kovacs asked. 

Jaeger shook his head and then looked pointedly at him. “Not used to being outside.” 

Kovacs smiled grimly and then continued walking. “This way,” he said. “Um, my spot is set up nearby.”

Jaeger frowned but followed. “Spot?” 

Kovacs was quiet for a moment. “Home,” he finally said.

Jaeger swallowed sharply. Since when did Kovacs refer to a place as ‘home’? They had never settled down. Everywhere they slept was temporary—a foxhole, a hiding spot for a mission, a sleeve that was just a resting point until they could get back to themselves—and it was never home. Jaeger and Kovacs had never called anything home. 

Jaeger wondered what else had changed while he had been spun down. 

There was a short walk from the hospital to the streets of the rebellion camp. They had to be rebels. Or Quellists. What else would they be? Jaeger hugged his bag close to his chest as they walked, keeping his head down. It didn’t matter, people still stared. 

Jaeger didn’t dare reach out for Kovacs. No matter what, he couldn’t risk showing how much he needed that support. As soon as anyone knew, it could be used against him. Jaeger forced himself to relax, letting the bag drop to his side. He straightened, put his shoulders back, and did his best to keep his head tall.

There were a lot more children than he anticipated. 

Quellists were brainwashed adults, ones who didn’t understand the blessing of stacks. In Jaeger’s opinion, it was abusive to subject children to that sort of belief. How many had died since their parents stupidly believed that they were liberating themselves? Jaeger was typically following orders and didn’t care one way or another, but he hated to think of all of the needless innocent deaths. He usually tried not to think about it at all.

But here, there were dozens of children playing in the streets. Some of them had balls or wooden disks that they tossed back and forth. Several had hand-sewn dolls or stuffed animals. They smiled at Kovacs, like they recognized him, but as soon as they realized that Jaeger was walking behind him they froze in terror or ducked quickly into their homes.

Like they recognized him too. 

Jaeger refused to make eye contact with the adults and just willed Kovacs to walk faster so he could get out of sight. He didn’t want to risk running anymore, now that feelings were a bit more complicated between them, but Jaeger didn’t feel completely comfortable either. 

“Here,” Kovacs said, finally stopping at one building that was less rundown than the others but had obviously been patched up at some point. He pushed open the door for them, and Jaeger couldn’t get into the safety of the interior fast enough.

He stood carefully in the middle of the room, not sure what he was allowed to touch and what he wasn’t. 

Kovacs sat down what he was carrying and half-pulled the shades, turning on the lights. Jaeger was surprised the place even had electricity. He stayed where he was as Kovacs moved around the space. He turned on the lights in a small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cupboards. 

“Hungry?” he offered. Casually. Like there wasn’t anything weird about their situation at all.

Jaeger’s stomach growled. Three months without food—of course he was hungry. Did Kovacs even have to ask? What kind of food did a rebel outpost have? Something freeze dried. Or shelf stable. Jaeger had eaten shit while in the field, so really anything was fine with him. 

He wouldn’t complain.

“Sit down,” Kovacs said. 

It was an offer, not an order, but Jaeger was just glad to finally know what he was supposed to do. He set his bags and such down and took a seat on the sofa. 

He wasn’t sure how to even sit normal. How relaxed should he be? He didn’t feel comfortable. When he was supposed to meet with Founders and other dignitaries, people that were so important that a single copy of their stacks was worth more than his entire existence, he knew how he was supposed to act. During these meetings, he was supposed to be a good little weapon, put on display, say as little as possible and speak when spoken to. Be a decoration that added to the room, not the conversation.

Jaeger figured that now was like one of those meetings. 

He sat with his legs together, hands folded in his lap, eyes down. He watched Kovacs out of the corner of his eye. He moved around the kitchen like he belonged there, pulling out dishes and lighting a gas stove with a flintlock. He worked with as little noise as possible, except for the clatter of ceramic on ceramic or the clink of silverware. 

“You’ll stay here,” he finally said. “Until we figure out something better.” 

There was a long moment of silence when Jaeger didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll need to talk to . . . . the others,” Kovacs continued. “Explain what happened. Until then, it’s best that you stay out of sight.” 

Jaeger could stay out of sight. He was used to being as out of sight as possible. Put away when he wasn’t needed. Like a good weapon. Like always. 

He wasn’t sure who the “others” were, but he could make a guess.

There were a few more minutes of silence as Kovacs cooked, before he turned everything off and loaded a tray, carrying everything over to Kovacs. He took the chair opposite of him. Probably so that he didn’t have to sit next to him. 

The plate was piled with a rice and vegetable mix. The fried brown cubes next to it must be the protein. Probably not authentic. The mug was filled with something hot but didn’t smell like anything Jaeger had had before. He wasn’t sure what to make of it as a whole. Kovacs also hadn’t given him permission to eat, so Jaeger stayed where he was. 

“Um, you can eat,” Kovacs said, as if he knew what Jaeger was waiting for. “The mug is tea. There’s a plant that grows in the forests around here that bloom flowers that can be brewed. We’ve found it helps with sleeve-sickness as well as general nausea.” 

Jaeger picked up the plate as well as the fork Kovacs had given him. Metal, to his surprise. It could easily be turned into a weapon, but apparently that wasn’t what Kovacs was worried about at the moment.

A part of Jaeger knew he shouldn’t trust food, especially in a rebel camp, but as soon as he took his first bite, he couldn’t stop himself. It was overcooked and under seasoned, the tea wasn’t sweetened, and the protein was so obviously lab grown, and Jaeger ate it as fast as he could, barely chewing as he swallowed each bite. 

The only reason it tasted even remotely good was probably the fact that he hadn’t eaten in three months. 

Still, Jaeger cleaned the plate, scraping up every grain and smear of protein before finally setting the plate aside. He almost didn’t want to let go of it, as if he was letting go of food even if it was empty. He forced himself to set it down anyway as casually as possible, picking up the mug instead and holding it close to his chest. 

He still hadn’t looked at Kovacs. 

He was well aware of the position he was in now. Being outside the construct didn’t make him any less of a prisoner. And a kiss could be just as manipulative as coding. 

“Um, you aren’t tired. . . . are you?” Kovacs asked. “There’s a bed—” 

“No,” Jaeger said with a shake of his head. He wasn’t in any rush to go to sleep again. 

“Well,” Kovacs said. “What do you want to do?” 

That made Jaeger feel something. He stiffened and looked up before he could stop himself. He kept his expression carefully neutral though. He wasn’t that stupid. 

“I want to talk about what happened,” he said. He clenched his hands around the mug harder than he meant to and then looked back down at his lap. “That . . . . memory you gave me. I . . . I think I remember, and then I don’t. I’m . . . . confused.” It felt bad to admit it. It felt awkward. 

Kovacs shifted ever so slightly. Jaeger didn’t have to be looking at his face to see the way he tensed up, eyes going hard, his entire expression guarded. Jaeger knew how he looked when he got nervous, and Kovacs was clearly nervous. 

“How . . . How much do you remember?” Kovacs finally asked. 

What did Jaeger remember? What _didn’t_ he remember? So much, of both. 

“There was so much _before_ ,” he said. “The memory, I mean. Not a lot maybe, I . . . I don’t know.” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, grinding hard enough that he saw stars and galaxies. It didn’t stop the memory playing on repeat in his mind, but at least he didn’t have to look at Kovacs.

Kovacs cleared his throat, and when he started speaking, it sounded like he was reciting a story. 

“When the Founders first arrived on-planet, they thought they were alone. However, there was life beneath the surface of the planet and instead of leaving it undisturbed, as they were supposed to, they decided to kill everything off, in preparation for settling the planet.” 

Jaeger . . . . knew that. He had known that. He had heard snippets of the story here and there. When you were just part of the house staff, people tended to forget that you even existed. Jaeger had heard more than he was supposed to on more than one occasion, but he knew better than to say anything. Keeping his mouth shut kept him alive. 

“There was mass genocide in minutes,” Kovacs continued. “Of an entire species.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaeger asked.

“Because one survived,” Kovacs said. “And she wanted revenge for her species. She lived in Quellcrist Falconer’s stack, killing Founders with her body in exchange for sparing the rest of the planet’s population.” 

Jaeger stiffened at her name. He didn’t like to think about her. She had taken Kovacs away from him. She was able to give Kovacs what he would never be able to provide. He shouldn’t let it get to him like how he let it, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

If Kovacs noticed his reaction, he didn’t comment. “It . . . it entered your stack.”

And that’s what Jaeger remembered. Vaguely. He still had his face buried in his hands, but he could remember that. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled. “I . . . there was something else inside of me.” It had wanted to hurt Quellcrist too, and Jaeger would have let it do that. He wouldn’t have even tried to stop it. But when it had tried to turn on Kovacs—that’s when Jaeger had tried to stop it. And it didn’t like when he fought back. 

It had torn through his stack and mind. Jaeger remembered the pain, like a hot brand pressed against the back of his neck until it sunk through his skin. Sort of like a shock collar to make sure he obeyed. It hadn't worked perfectly. Jaeger hadn't hurt Kovacs, had he? No, he hadn't. He would've remembered that. 

“I know,” Kovacs said. 

Jaeger shook his head, still trying to make sense of the memory. “Not _you_ ,” he said. “But there was someone else. You were . . . _I_ double-sleeved you.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, but it shuddered and he almost broke down. “The deal was, that if I killed the last envoy, then I could keep you. We could . . . . be together.” 

The last words came out softer than he wanted, but he wasn’t about to say them again. 

Kovacs was silent then. Of course he was.

What sort of deal was that? How desperate had Jaeger been? He was stupid to think that he would get any sort of ending that he wanted. He should know, after all these years, that soldiers didn’t get endings. At all. They were spun up again and again and again. As long as there was war and fighting, then there would be no ending for him. 

“Did I . . . . did I kill him?” Jaeger asked. _Is it over?_ was what he really wanted to ask. 

Kovacs didn’t say anything for a moment, and fear and dread twisted itself in Jaeger’s stomach. 

If the envoy wasn’t dead, then there was an uncompleted mission. Jaeger’s training didn’t allow that. He would have to leave and fight and hunt again. He couldn’t stop until the orders were completed. That was who he was. 

“Yes,” Kovacs finally said. “He’s dead.” 

Jaeger slumped in his seat, breathing a sigh of relief without meaning to letting his hands drop back to his lap. It was like a weight off his chest, and he could relax for a moment before he realized he didn’t have a mission after that. He didn’t have any more orders and really, what was he without orders? He was supposed to be spun down after he completed his orders not . . . . not kept in a sleeve.

He didn’t want to ask about Quellcrist. The bitch herself. He didn’t want to hear her name in Kovacs’s mouth.

“The rebels aren’t going to like you keeping me alive,” he said instead. 

Kovacs looked genuinely confused then, and then he seemed to realize what Jaeger was talking about. 

“This isn’t . . . . those people aren’t rebels,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the window. “This is a new settlement. Very new, but on a planet that’s already under the Protectorate. No one here knows who we are. No one knows who _you_ are.” 

Jaeger just buried his face again and crumpled in on himself. Because after losing Kovacs, being forgotten was his second biggest fear. Why live for so long—why let himself be kept alive for so long—if he was just going to be forgotten anyway? He didn’t want to let Kovacs know just how much the news hurt him, so he took a moment to pull himself together before looking back up at Kovacs. 

He sat straight in his seat, shoulders back. He held his mug of tea loosely in his lap and forced his entire body to relax at once.

“Alright,” he said. 

“Alright?” Kovacs said. “ _Alright?_ That’s all you have to say?”

Jaeger shrugged noncommittally. “What else am I supposed to say?” 

Kovacs just sighed. “I don’t even know.” 

Jaeger raised his mug of tea and took a drink so that he didn’t have to say anything. It helped draw out the silence between them, made it seem like there was nothing else to be said. And Kovacs didn’t say anything. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, picking up the tray and carrying it back to the kitchen area. He turned on the sink and grabbed a rag, scrubbing and cleaning like nothing was the matter. 

“Are you with . . . them?” Jaeger asked. _Are you with her?_ He couldn’t bring himself to ask that. Not yet. He didn’t want to know that answer. 

“Them?” Kovacs repeated. “The rebels? No. I don’t agree with their ideals. It . . . doesn’t make sense to me.” 

Jaeger relaxed at that. It didn’t give him the most hope, but it was better than nothing.

“The other . . . the other Kovacs left me for her,” he murmured. He didn't like thinking about it, but it was the truth. "He left me for . . . for a rebellion." 

Kovacs didn’t say anything for a moment, just finished washing up and setting the dishes aside to air dry. He dried off his hands before preparing himself a cup of tea. He returned to his seat then, settling back down. Jaeger almost thought the conversation would end there, and that they would talk about something else, anything else. Anything besides Jaeger. 

“That wasn’t me,” Kovacs said. “I’m . . . . I’m sorry.” 

So they were still talking about Jaeger. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaeger said. 

Kovacs sat back in his seat and looked idly out the window, apparently lost in thought. The shades were only half drawn, and the planet was experiencing a sunset, that transition to nighttime. It wasn’t the same as a traditional Earthian sunset. The sunlight or starlight or whatever was violently red, streaming through the window like streaks of blood. Maybe that was the atmosphere or maybe it was the source of the planet’s light, Jaeger didn’t know. 

All he knew was how it looked falling across Kovacs’s face. The shadows on his neck and eyes. The way it bled down his collarbones and over his shirt. 

And Jaeger wondered how stupid he had to be to let his heart get broken by the same person thousands of time.

**Author's Note:**

> lowkey want to continue this but i'm not sure
> 
> anyway, i'm on tumblr @manuscript-or


End file.
